


Friends Don't Call (in the Middle of the Night)

by buffymysavior, Hcpelesshcney



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Facetime, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mutual Pining, major angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 16:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15800307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffymysavior/pseuds/buffymysavior, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hcpelesshcney/pseuds/Hcpelesshcney
Summary: Cyrus spent all night in bed, trying to fall asleep, but he was only met with restlessness. Restlessness for his feelings for Jonah, restlessness for everything going on with his friends, restlessness for his life in general. That’s when he decided to call TJ. TJ had always been able to make him feel better, no matter the circumstances. What came next was something that neither of the boys expected.





	Friends Don't Call (in the Middle of the Night)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my third Andi Mack fic and my first Tyrus fic for this fandom. Me and one of my best friends @Hcpelesshcney have been working on this story for a few weeks now and I've had so much fun collabing on this story. Bee's writing is seriously amazing and I've nearly cried reading their scenes in this story. I love you, Bee! I can't wait to work on our other collab. Anyway, check out @Hcpelesshcney's other stories because they're awesome. <3

It was about two in the morning when Cyrus Goodman finally gave up on sleeping.

He’d had a _long_ day—between dealing with the stress of Buffy moving away, Jonah writing a song for Andi, _the boy he’d had a crush on for months now_ , and then watching that same boy kiss his best friend—he didn’t know how he’d made it without breaking down or crying or _something_.

He’d been trying to sleep for hours now, but the only tiredness he’d felt was of his feelings for Jonah.

Cyrus glanced over to where his phone was charging on his nightstand. He considered calling Andi or Buffy for a moment, but decided against it. As much as he hated to admit it, Andi was part of the problem—besides, he didn’t want to drag her down right after she had her first kiss. He remembered how excited he was after his first kiss with Iris, even if he hadn’t liked her that way—or any girls, for that matter.

Calling Buffy was also out of the question. He’d already bothered her so much with his _Jonah Beck issues_ , and he really didn’t want to further put her in a position between him and Andi, anyway. It just wasn’t fair to put her in the middle and make her choose between them all the time.

For a quick, sleep-deprived second, Cyrus considered calling Jonah, but nearly laughed at the thought. Even if Jonah happened to pick up, there was no way he could talk about this with him—first of all, Jonah was an _astronomical_ part of the problem, and second of all, Jonah Beck didn’t _do_ feelings. Even after tonight, Cyrus doubted Jonah was so in touch with his emotions that he could talk about _this_ —it would only result in disappointment for Cyrus and a waste of time for both of them.

Cyrus sighed in defeat. That basically ruled out everyone he knew that he _actually_ felt comfortable talking to about this. Unless…

He yanked his phone off the charger, squinting at the screen despite the low brightness setting. Hesitantly, he opened up his contacts with a wavering finger, his heart rate increasing as he found the person in question.

_TJ._

How he hadn’t thought of the basketball player before was beyond him. Over the past several weeks, they’d become a lot closer, talking several times a week in and outside of school, something that continued to shock Cyrus since the day they met.

Cyrus's finger hovered uncertainly over the FaceTime option on TJ’s contact information. What if he didn’t pick up? Even worse, what if he did and got mad at Cyrus for calling so late? Cyrus debated in his head for a minute or so before finally tapping the face call button. _Here we go_ , he thought to himself, practically squinting his eyes shut as he tried to ignore the loud pounding in his chest.

All Cyrus could do now...was wait.

* * *

Picking up his phone before his eyes adjusted to the bright screen had to be TJ’s stupidest action in a long time. He pressed his free hand to his eyes, blinked a few more times, then looked at the screen again. The first thing he focused on was the fact that a caught-off-guard picture of Cyrus was on the screen—the other boy’s contact picture. The second thing that caught his attention was the time. _1:57 AM_ was written in little white letters at the top of his screen, and the worry that surged through him had all remnants of sleep dissolving immediately.

Answering the call, he pushed himself up so that he was sitting against the headboard of his bed. It took a moment for the call to connect, which didn’t help TJ’s nervousness in the slightest.

“Cyrus?” The screen finally connected, but both rooms were so dark it hardly even mattered. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

It looked like the screen was being jostled around on the other end, and a moment later, the screen flooded with color—Cyrus had turned on a lamp. He looked like a wreck, white T-shirt all wrinkled and usually-styled hair sticking up wildly. He frowned, trying to figure out how to even begin. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he—

“Cy?”

“I’m sorry, did I wake you? I know it’s really late, but I didn’t know who else to call and it’s just—I just—I woke you up, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, this was a bad idea, I’ll just—”

“Cyrus,” TJ cut in, stopping the other boy’s rambling short. “It’s okay. I was awake already.” Which was a lie. But as far as lies went, this one wasn’t the _worst_ . TJ would always answer Cyrus's calls, even if he _was_ sleeping. That much had to be obvious. At least, it was for him.

“Oh.” The relief on his face was so prominent that it was almost overwhelming. “Okay.”

“Yeah. So, what’s up?” It felt like the wrong thing to ask, but TJ wasn’t sure what else to say. He always felt tongue-tied when it came to Cyrus, and it was such a rare situation that he still wasn’t sure what to do with that information.

“Oh, right. I… couldn’t sleep.”

“That much was obvious.”

The laugh that came after his comment was shocking. Cyrus's laugh always was, like he was never aware he was going to laugh until after it happened.

“I guess so, huh? It’s just that—I don’t know. It’s been a really long day.”

“Is this classified as your stuff?” It was meant to be light-hearted, a way to get Cyrus a little more out of his mind and a little less… sad. Because that’s what he looked like, TJ realized finally, Cyrus looked _sad_. “Because if you aren’t okay with talking about it, we don’t have to.”

“I mean—yeah, yes, it is, I guess. But I just—I want to talk about it. I feel like I _need_ to, y’know?”

TJ was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. He _did_ know what Cyrus meant, but probably for a much different reason. “Yeah.”

“I just…okay, so I’m sorry this probably doesn’t make any sense, but I like this… _person_ and my friends know I like them but the person doesn’t know I like them. At least, I don’t think they do. And anyway, I don’t think it would even matter much if they did know, because there’s no way they would like me back and—I thought I was okay with it, but I’m not. I’m _not_.”

_Oh_ . The more TJ listened to Cyrus, the tighter his chest started to feel. Was he—? No. He couldn’t possibly be talking about him. There was no way. For all TJ knew, Cyrus liked _girls_ , so there really was no use in even _thinking_ like that. A beat too late, he said, “I know what you mean.” And he _did_ . He did, because he was in the exact same situation, and it _hurt_ , but that was a conversation for a much later time.

“This sucks,” Cyrus said, and that hurt, too, because TJ _really_ did not know how to make any of this better.

“Do you want to know what I think?” TJ settled back into his bed, comforter tucked around his chest and cellphone resting on the pillow a couple of inches away from his face. The screen tilted, turning the picture of Cyrus's face sideways. The whole situation seemed far more intimate than it had any right to be. “I think that whoever it is you’re talking about isn’t worth all the pain.”

“TJ.”

“No, I mean, just hear me out, okay? They don’t know you like them, right? But your friends do? Obviously there’s something going wrong with that, because you called _me_ , instead of one of them. And I know for a fact that either of them would be better at this than me. And I know I’m an outsider to all of this, but if liking them makes you sad more than it makes you happy, then they aren’t worth it. _You’re_ worth more than that, Cy.”

The conversation lulled to a stop, and for a brief moment, TJ wondered if he said too much, if he tried a little too hard. Cyrus was silent on the other end, his eyes closed, almost like he was asleep, but not quite. Then he nodded, just once, and that one simple action took all the worry out of TJ.

“Okay,” he said, his voice so soft it’s barely more than a whisper, “Thank you.”

The smile TJ gave him was soft, more of a careful upturn at the corners of his mouth than anything. He desperately hoped his feelings weren’t written all over his face in that moment, or at least that Cyrus didn’t _catch on_ to any of them. Not just yet. Maybe not ever.

They talked for a while longer, the atmosphere lighter now that Cyrus had been able to sort things out a little. He listened to TJ talk about anything, too exhausted in every sense of the word to provide much conversation. Eventually, both of them could no longer keep from yawning every other sentence, so they decided to call it a night.

“Thank you, again,” Cyrus said right before he hung up, “I really do appreciate it.”

TJ nodded, his hair catching on his pillow case as he did. “No problem, Underdog. Night.”

Cyrus echoed a goodnight, then hung up the call. Plugging his phone back into the charger, he shut off the light and laid back down, falling to sleep in the span of a breath.

On the other side of town, TJ was still awake, staring up at his bedroom ceiling. He felt wide awake now, even though he was exhausted, but try as he might, he couldn’t fall back to sleep. All he could think about was how sad Cyrus looked when he called, like the very thought of whoever he liked was painful. It hurt that he could relate to that, too.

* * *

After their initial FaceTime, Cyrus had made a habit of calling TJ whenever he couldn’t sleep. But as Buffy had pointed out during the school week, their conversations weren’t _just_ limited to the occasional late night (not that she _knew_ they talked at two in the morning, but still, her point was made). It felt like they talked all the time now, during any empty time that either of them found themselves in. They would catch each other in the halls during passing periods, and occasionally, during lunch. If either of them had a substitute teacher in a class that didn’t actually care what the students did, they would FaceTime.

“When did this happen?” Buffy pulled Cyrus aside the following Friday, after Cyrus had hung up on TJ. “Are you guys, like, best friends now or something?”

The very notion of it made Cyrus laugh. Not that being friends with TJ was funny, but that it made no sense to him, either. “Buffy, c’mon, you _know_ you’re my best friend!”

She frowned at him, then at his phone, then back at him. “Do I, Cyrus? _Do I really_ ?” She was joking, mostly, so when he changed the subject back to the English assignment they were _supposed_ to be working on, she didn’t make _too_ much of a fuss. But still, she wondered. Not so much about Cyrus, but about TJ’s intentions. She made a note to call him out about it after practice.

As it were, once Buffy got to practice that day, the note was completely gone from her mind.

* * *

Waking up again in the middle of the night had not been part of Cyrus's plan for the day. But then again, neither was dreaming that he had somehow managed to work up the courage to tell Jonah Beck he liked him and been _immediately rejected_. His breathing was ragged when he finally jolted awake, the anxiety and humiliation from the dream dragged into his consciousness. It all felt too real.

He flipped on the lamp on his bedside table and reached for his phone before his mind even fully registered what it was doing. It was such a familiar action, calling TJ whenever something was wrong, that Cyrus wasn’t even surprised when he picked up before the second ring.

“Hey, Cy—oh, geez, what’s wrong?”

Cyrus opened his mouth to answer, but he couldn’t seem to make the words form. The anxiety that sat in his chest made it ridiculously hard to breathe. Unshed tears burned at his eyes and—God, all of this was so humiliating. He should have just gone back to sleep. He should have—

“Cyrus? What’s going on? I’m here, okay? I’m here.” TJ’s voice was so soft that it made Cyrus's heart ache. “Talk to me.”

The first word out of Cyrus's mouth was _Jonah_ , and as soon as it was out there, Cyrus knew he was never going to be able to take it back. He didn’t even _want_ to take it back.

“What?” TJ’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, “What about Jonah?”

“I—” Cyrus pulled in another shaky breath, still feeling so undone. “I _like_ him, TJ. And—and I just had this _dream_.”

“Oh,” TJ blinked, and the face he made immediately afterward was much too similar to the one he pulled in The Spoon back when he helped Cyrus learn how to somersault.

“ _No!_ ” Cyrus said quickly, pressing the heel of his hand against one of his eyes. His head _ached_. This whole situation sucked. “Not like that. I mean—he’s the person I told you about last month. Remember? When I called you that first time? It’s Jonah. My crush is Jonah. And I had a dream that I _told_ _him_ and he rejected me and—I hate this, Teej. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to _feel._ ” And _God_ , now he was crying. How much more pathetic could he get?

Watching this all unfold made TJ feel sick. He wished more than anything that he could just _be_ _there_ for Cyrus. Actually there with him, not on the opposite side of town, only connected through a few spotty WiFi signals. “I don’t know what to say.”

Cyrus laughed, completely joyless. He felt like he was spiraling, everything coming unhinged. All of this was _bad_ . “Well, that makes two of us, doesn’t it?” He swiped at his eyes, teardrops wetting his fingertips. TJ must hate him for this—for the constant FaceTime calls and the constant drama and the constant tears. _God_.

Things went quiet, neither of them speaking. It was just bordering on awkward when TJ cleared his throat. He said, “I still don’t think he’s worth it, Cy.”

_That_ hurt. Because he knew that Jonah wasn’t worth it. He _knew_ that. Heck, he told _Andi_ that every time she came crying to the group chat that he quote-unquote, _didn’t understand her_ . “You don’t think anyone is worth it, TJ.” As soon as he said it, Cyrus regretted opening his mouth, because TJ looked so _hurt_. “TJ, I—”

“No,” TJ cut him off, eyes trained away from the screen, “You’re right. I _don’t_ think anyone is worth it. Not for you. Because you don’t give yourself enough credit. You deserve way better than _Jonah Beck_ , than—than _anyone_ , really. And I know that probably doesn’t mean anything to you right now, but it’s true. But that also doesn’t mean how you’re feeling is invalid. You just… Cyrus, you deserve someone who’s going to treat you like you hold the world.” TJ had to stop himself from adding _like me_ , but he wondered if it even mattered. He’d already said so much more than he ever meant to, it felt like he’d taken his heart and put it on display—like with the addition of every word, he’d gone _here, my heart, take it._ He hadn’t meant to.

But it must have been the right thing to say, because Cyrus wasn’t crying anymore. And really, all things considered, that _had_ been TJ’s goal. It always was, even if the situation left _him_ feeling raw. At the end of it all, Cyrus was the one who mattered most to him. Whatever unrequited feelings he dealt with in relation to that was nothing Cyrus needed to worry about.

* * *

The day that Cyrus realized his crush on Jonah was gone, he told Buffy first.

They were sprawled out on the grass in his backyard, watching the clouds blow across the sky and reveling in the fact that not only was there no homework given out for over the weekend, but _also_ that Monday and Tuesday were teacher training days, which meant that they got an extra-long weekend.

Sometimes Cyrus's favorite thing about his friendship with Buffy was the fact that they could spend so much time together and not feel like they had to fill it with conversation. Sometimes it was the fact that he knew he _could_ talk about anything, even if it scared him. He knew this moment was one of those.

“Buffy?” Cyrus asked, breaking the sleepy hush that had settled over them. Buffy did no more than tilt her head in his direction, which he took as an acknowledgement to continue. “I—remember how a couple of months ago I told you that I… _liked_ Jonah?”

“What about it?”

“Well, yeah, okay, so about that,” it felt like all of the words Cyrus was looking for were just out of reach. He knew what he wanted to say, what he needed to say, but he just couldn’t find the right words to fit. All in one breath, he said, “BuffymycrushonJonahisgone.”

Buffy sat up so fast she practically got whiplash. “What? When? How?”

“Who? Why?” It was meant to be a joke, and even though Cyrus was smiling, he knew it fell flat. Buffy leveled a glare at him, eyebrow raised. “Okay, _okay_ . I don’t know when. Or… how, I guess. It’s just _gone_.”

“Like, gone-gone? Are you sure?”

Cyrus was pretty sure. Whenever Jonah came around, it didn’t feel like he took up all the space in the room. When he smiled, Cyrus's stomach didn’t fill with butterflies anymore. Jonah was still radiant laughter personified, but Cyrus was immune to that now. The shine was gone. He didn’t tell Buffy any of that, though. Rather, he nodded, and Buffy mimicked the action.

“Okay,” she said, laying back down, “Cool.”

Cyrus sighed, and the weight that was pressing down on his shoulders before the start of the conversation was gone.

* * *

Cyrus called TJ later that day, right after dinner. He meant to call after Buffy left, but then his mom and stepdad came home from work, and he had to help chop the vegetables for whatever dish his mom saw on Instagram earlier that day, and time passed faster than he realized.

Waiting for TJ to pick up the call, Cyrus sat on his bed, back resting against the headboard. The call rang through twice before the other boy picked up. He was outside, hair matted against his forehead with sweat. “Hold on,” he said, and Cyrus assumed it was directed towards him because then the phone dropped while TJ rummaged around for something. A moment later, his smiling face was back on the screen, this time with a miked headphone in his ear. “Okay, hi.”

“Hi,” The fact that TJ seemed busy wasn’t lost on Cyrus. “Is now a bad time or—?”

“Nah, it’s cool. Just a pickup game, nothing the boys can’t handle without me for a while.” TJ smiled at him again, warm and bright, and, _oh,_ Cyrus's heart practically stuttered.

“Are you sure? Because I can call later.”

“Cy, c’mon, it’s fine. I want to talk to you.”  There was an unspoken _always_ at the end of his sentence, but TJ wasn’t sure if Cyrus heard it, and Cyrus wasn’t sure if TJ meant to imply it. It hung there in the air, nonetheless.

“Okay,” he said, “I have some news.”

“Good news or bad news?”

Cyrus considered this for a moment. “It’s just… _news_ , I guess.” Because it was. Him not liking Jonah anymore wasn’t necessarily good or bad. It just _was_.

“Okay, shoot.”

He took a breath, counting to four to still his trembling hands. “So, you remember what I told you a couple weeks ago, right? About Jonah?”

TJ nodded, his eyes flicking from the screen to something in front of him that Cyrus couldn’t see. He turned his attention back to the conversation, apologizing for the extra background noise his friends were making.

“It’s okay. Um, anyway, so about the whole _crush_ thing…”

“What about it, Cy? Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Yeah. I mean, I think so?” He rubbed his free hand over his face, sighing. “I don’t know why this is so hard to tell you. It wasn’t nearly this hard to tell Buffy.”

TJ frowned, but it was so quick and small that Cyrus missed it. “Tell Buffy what?”

“That I…well, okay, I’m just gonna say it. Rip the bandaid off, right?” Cyrus laughed nervously, looking everywhere but at TJ. “My crush, uh, it’s gone. Like… completely, I think. Or, I hope. For a while now.” He waited for TJ to reply, but the silence stretched on for a beat too long, and the tiny pit of anxiety that had settled in his stomach at the beginning of the call started to unfurl. “TJ?”

TJ was dumbstruck, absolutely dumbstruck. And hopeful, kind of, because maybe now he—he shook his head, tuning back in. “That’s… great, Cyrus. Right?”

“I—yeah, it is, I think. I just figured you’d want to know.”

“Thanks for telling me. I appreciate it. Hey, uh, I have to go. The boys want me to join the game again. Call you later?”

Cyrus nodded, and they exchanged quick goodbyes before hanging up the call. Part of him felt hollow at how nonchalant TJ was the whole time, but the other part was glad he hadn’t made such a big deal. Even so, was Cyrus _supposed_ to feel weirdly empty when someone who was just a friend hung up before he wanted them to?

He wasn’t going to dwell on it.

* * *

For the first time ever, Cyrus was woken up in the middle of the night by a loud vibrating sound buzzing in his ear.

The source of the noise was coming from his nightstand, which was confusing in itself. Who would ever call him this late? Of course, Andi and Buffy came to mind first. Did something happen to them? Were they okay? Was someone in the hospital?

Then his mind shifted to the more logical option: TJ. That didn’t make a lot of sense either, considering TJ had never called Cyrus first when it was this late. But sure enough, when Cyrus yanked his phone off the charger in his half-asleep state, TJ’s smiling picture stared right back at him.

Puzzled and dazed with sleep, Cyrus accepted the call and settled back against his headboard, not even bothering to turn on his lamp as the call loaded.

TJ’s face appeared on the screen after a moment, the only light in his room being the faint brightness cast from his phone. Even though Cyrus was mostly out of it, he could see TJ looked agitated, or at least upset. “Cy?” he asked, his voice weary with distress. That immediately set an alarm off in Cyrus's head, but it felt like a dull ringing in his hazy state instead of the obnoxious blaring it should’ve been.

“TJ,” he said. He meant for it to sound enthusiastic, but instead, it came out hoarse and drowsy. “Are you okay?”

TJ bit his lip at the question, running a shaky hand through his messy hair. That was something he’d been trying to figure out all night; _was he okay?_ At this point, he wasn’t so sure. There was something he’d been _dying_ to tell Cyrus even before they’d started FaceTiming a month ago—something that had begun to keep him awake at night in the most recent weeks. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I couldn’t sleep. Sorry, I know I probably woke you up and stuff…” What was he thinking? Of _course_ he’d woken him up. Cyrus _always_ called when he was restless, so he must’ve been asleep by now.

“Teej, I always wake you up in the middle of the night with my stuff. Don’t be sorry,” Cyrus drawled, rubbing his eyes. Even though Cyrus wasn’t physically asleep, TJ could tell he still was, at least mentally. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” TJ said again. That was a lie. Maybe he didn’t know if he was okay or not, but he for sure knew what was bothering him. That’s why he’d called—to talk to Cyrus about what he was feeling. But now that he was here on the phone with him, TJ wasn’t sure he could actually muster up the courage to actually say it.

“You do know,” Cyrus countered, making the face he always made when he was trying to psychoanalyze someone. “What’s bothering you?”

TJ looked away from his phone. He couldn’t tell Cyrus about his feelings, not right now, anyway. “I’m just not tired. It’s not that deep,” he said, forcing a slight chuckle.

Of course, Cyrus was able to see right through it like everything TJ did. “You know you can talk to me. I always bother you with my stuff. You should be able to tell me yours.”

“You’re never bothering me, Cy,” TJ protested. Who was to say he couldn’t compliment Cyrus while also getting the conversation off-track? “I’m glad you trust me with your stuff.”

“So am I,” Cyrus smiled tiredly. However, the grin on his face disappeared almost as quickly as it had come, much to TJ’s disappointment. “But that’s not the point. The point is you’re not telling me what’s wrong. You obviously called me for a reason.”

TJ sighed. Why did he even try to change the subject? Cyrus was _much_ too observant for his own good. "I just wanted to talk to you, Underdog,” TJ replied. That _definitely_ wasn’t a lie. He always wanted to talk to Cyrus; just...not about this. “Can we just talk?”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” Cyrus mumbled. He was obviously tired; why he didn’t go to bed right now and hang up on him was beyond TJ. The dark-haired boy settled back against his pillow, closing his eyes. “I’m waiting.”

TJ tried to think of what to say, but all that came to mind was blinding hot panic. What if he didn’t feel the same way? Sure, he had a chance with Cyrus now that he knew he was gay, too, but that didn’t necessarily mean he liked him back. He only _just_ got over Jonah. What if Cyrus didn’t say anything? Or if he just hung up? TJ honestly didn’t know which option was worse: silence or flat-out rejection.

Worst of all, what if he ruined their friendship? What if the quick greetings in the hallways stopped and the casual hang-outs after school ceased and the late night FaceTime calls just disappeared?

What if he lost the best thing that ever happened to him in a matter of seconds?

But as he stared at Cyrus on his phone screen—eyes closed and a small smile tracing that adorable face of his—he knew this was a risk he had to take. Now that he might _actually_ have a chance with him, there was no way he was going to sit aside and not at least _try_.

TJ glanced away from his phone again. If he was actually going to do this, there was no way he’d be able to do it if he was staring at Cyrus the whole time searching for a reaction or tell of some kind.

He took a deep breath; this was the moment that would either bring him closer to Cyrus or possibly destroy their relationship. Then he pushed that thought away; if he focused on the negative possibilities, he’d never be able to get the words out of his mouth.

“I like you, okay?” TJ breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t even dare looking at his phone in fear of Cyrus's reaction, instead staring at the wall on his right. “I’ve liked you ever since that day at the park when you were singing about the swings. Or maybe even before that when I helped you get that chocolate chocolate chip muffin,” he admitted, scrubbing his hair against his head. He paused for a moment, listening for any sort of response from Cyrus. When he didn’t get one, he continued nervously, “I just—no one’s ever listened to me or understood me the way you do. Everyone’s always just seen me as this jerky dumb jock—which, I guess, they had every reason to think that—but you saw past that, you know? And no one’s ever...ever _seen_ me the way you do. And you make me so _nervous_ that sometimes I swear my heart’s just going to jump out of my chest, which probably sounds super lame and so does the rest of this, but...I just like you a lot, okay? And I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but I just wanted you to know...,” TJ rambled, eventually trailing off. When he was met with more silence, he snapped his head towards his phone. “Cyrus?” he asked hesitantly, staring at the screen. After a second, he realized the other boy’s eyes were closed, the only movement on the screen being the slow rise and fall of Cyrus's chest.

_Great._ Cyrus was sleeping. Just his luck. Somehow, this was even worse than the shock or rejection he’d expected. Probably because TJ had _just_ spilled his heart out to the boy he liked and he hadn’t even been awake to hear any of it.

Overwhelmed with disappointment, TJ took one glance at Cyrus's sleeping face— _why did he have to be so cute?_ —and hung up the phone. The only thing he was for sure of now was that he could _never_ try to tell Cyrus about his feelings again. If anything, this whole thing was just proof that he wasn’t supposed to tell Cyrus how he felt.

TJ set his phone down on his nightstand and laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. If he hadn’t been able to sleep before, he didn’t know _how_ he was supposed to sleep now.

As his mind drifted to Monday morning, TJ knew what he had to do. If he couldn’t tell Cyrus how he felt about him, then his only other option was to get over his stupid feelings for him once and for all. And to do that, he needed to stop being friends with Cyrus no matter how much it killed him inside, even if losing Cyrus was exactly what he’d been terrified of in the first place.

* * *

The first thing Cyrus was aware of was the fact that the soft hum of TJ’s voice wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t recall falling asleep. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he _did_ fall asleep, but he must have. Because one moment, he was trying to convince TJ to talk about what was bothering him, and the next thing he knew, TJ was telling him that he _liked_ him. Which had to have been a dream, because there was no way TJ really said that. No way he could actually like Cyrus, no matter how much Cyrus wanted him to. Because he did. Want TJ to like him, that is. But there was no way he could say that without managing to ruin whatever little friendship they had going.

So Cyrus chalked it up to a dream. The kind of hazy, nearly-sleeping dream that left him feeling weightless and cozy, because there was a fifty-fifty chance of it being real and not just something his own mind dreamed up. And he didn’t tell TJ about it, even though it sat at the back of his mind all of the next day.

Eventually, he tucked the thought away. Right along with the skip of his heart every time his phone buzzed and the immediate disappointment that followed finding out the notification wasn’t from TJ.

They didn’t talk for the rest of the weekend.

* * *

The following Monday morning was worse than usual for Cyrus.

It wasn’t because something astronomically traumatizing happened or anything like that. In retrospect, the day went pretty okay for being, well, a Monday. His day wasn’t bad because something terrible happened to him; it was rather a lack of something.

That something, of course, was TJ.

After that “dream” he’d had last night, Cyrus had been looking forward to and also dreading seeing the basketball player. He was afraid that when they saw each other, he’d either get confirmation that last night _actually happened_ and he’d slept through it or it was just another part of his vivid, but cruel imagination. Cyrus really didn’t know which was worse.

Unfortunately, he had gone the entire day without seeing TJ, which...maybe wasn’t _that_ surprising considering they didn’t share any classes since they were in different grades, but they still usually saw each other once or twice throughout the day. Usually, they at _least_ exchanged good morning’s or sat together at lunch or _something_ , but today, there was none of that. There was only a sinking feeling in his chest that reminded him of his TJ-less day.

Cyrus couldn’t help but wonder if it was something he did, but they were fine up until last night. Maybe that was part of the reason TJ had called so late; something Cyrus did had been bothering the other boy.

That was how Cyrus found himself calling TJ later that evening. He just wanted to talk, to have some reassurance that maybe he was just making a big deal out of nothing. But instead of getting validation that he was just blowing this whole thing out of proportion, he received no answer, something that left him more disappointed than he’d care to admit.

_He’s probably just busy_ , Cyrus told himself. That wasn’t _completely_ unreasonable; basketball season was still in full swing, which could be the reason for all of this. Then again, Buffy still managed to make time for him.

Cyrus shook the thoughts from his head. There was no use speculating about all of this when he didn’t know for sure what was going on. He would just...talk to TJ tomorrow. That is, if he even saw him.

* * *

The next day, Cyrus _did_ see TJ, but a part of him wished he hadn’t.

He saw TJ in the hallway with a few of his basketball buddies, goofing around as they walked to their next class. Cyrus took this opportunity to talk to him. “Hey, TJ!” he smiled, waving at the other boy.

TJ looked in his direction with a smile, and Cyrus could feel the hope blooming in his chest. But then the smile disappeared and TJ indifferently lifted his head at him in acknowledgement before turning back to his friends.

That was the only confirmation Cyrus needed to know that his dream had been just that: a cruel, misleading dream.

* * *

The next few days continued similarly, consisting of Cyrus trying and failing to talk to TJ. He’d been ignoring him in the halls _and_ not answering his face calls, something that saddened Cyrus more with each failed interaction. Buffy was the first one to notice Cyrus's mopiness, finally bringing it up when she saw the boy staring forlornly at TJ’s lunch table. “I can’t take this anymore!” Buffy exclaimed, making Cyrus turn his head ever-so-slightly. “You’ve been mopey all week. Is this because of TJ?”

“What made you think that?” Cyrus asked, absentmindedly taking a bite of his banana-nut muffin. It didn’t taste nearly as good as chocolate chocolate chip, not even close.

“For the past week, you’ve been staring at TJ like he ran over your dog,” Buffy explained, glancing over at the basketball player. “Which, knowing him, wouldn’t be that surprising.”

Cyrus shook his head in disagreement. “He would never do that. Besides, you guys are friends now.”

Buffy snorted. “We won’t be for long if he keeps ignoring you.”

Cyrus felt his heart drop into his stomach. Buffy was rarely wrong about things like this, so TJ really _must_ be avoiding him. “I don’t know what I did,” Cyrus frowned. He glanced over at TJ again; he was sitting with a few of his teammates, laughing at a joke one of them made. The fact that TJ was having so much fun without him while he was miserable stung with a pain he wasn’t expecting, and he looked away from him. “I’ve been trying to talk to him all week and I’ve gotten nothing out of him!”

His best friend gave him a sympathetic look before turning around to look at TJ. “He’s getting up!” she exclaimed. Cyrus perked up, eyes following TJ as he dumped his lunch tray in the trash and started walking towards the door alone. “Here’s your chance!”

“I haven’t even finished my lunch!” Cyrus protested, gesturing to his half-full lunch tray. That wasn’t his only reason for not wanting to talk to TJ; he really didn’t want to get rejected _another_ time this week. He was starting to lose hope that TJ’d ever talk to him again.

“It’ll be here when you get back. Go!” she urged.

Quickly, Cyrus got up from his seat and hurried towards the door. When he walked into the hallway, he saw TJ at his locker throwing away graded assignments and old water bottles from what he could tell. “TJ!” he called out, his voice uncertain.

Almost immediately, the other boy turned around at hearing his name called. It felt so good hearing Cyrus's voice again, something this week had lacked greatly (which was mostly his own fault, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt). “Hey, Under—Cyrus,” he said slowly, catching himself on the old nickname. “How’s it going?” TJ forced out, a block of ice forming in the pit of his stomach similar to the near coldness of his words.

Cyrus's eyebrows furrowed, the expression being so adorable that it made TJ fight the urge to smile. “Not so good,” Cyrus answered. The words sounded a little sad, and TJ mentally cursed himself. Cyrus was sad because of _him_. “I haven’t seen you much this week.”

The statement stung like a slap to the face. “I’ve been busy,” TJ lied, turning back to his locker. He couldn’t keep lying if he was looking Cyrus in the face; the other boy had always so easily seen through his mask of lies, and he knew this time around would be no exception.

“Oh. I thought…,” Cyrus trailed off.

“You thought what?” TJ asked, the words sounding much harsher than he’d ever intended them to be. When he looked at Cyrus, he could see the hurt plain on his face. TJ had never meant to hurt him like _this_ . All he’d been trying to do was get rid of his stupid, stupid feelings, but look where they were now. He’d hurt Cyrus _and_ he was crushing on him harder than ever. Great. So much for avoiding him for the whole week. “I need to talk to Coleman about my tutoring sessions,” TJ swallowed hardly, closing his locker door. “I’ll see you around, Un—Cyrus.”

Cyrus watched painfully as TJ ambled away towards the math classroom. Now he wasn’t _starting_ to lose hope that he’d ever talk to TJ again; at this point, he didn’t even have a glimmer of hope for the situation they were in.

* * *

This time, it was about three in the morning when Cyrus Goodman finally gave up on sleeping.

Normally, he’d call TJ in this situation, but he hadn’t taken any of Cyrus's calls this week and barely spared him more than a glance these days.

TJ was also the reason he couldn’t sleep. Their fight or argument or...better yet, detachment was really grating on Cyrus, almost to the point of just giving up entirely. It wasn’t like TJ would just up and talk to him out of the blue, and clearly his attempts at mending their relationship weren’t working. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened, anyway; Cyrus had never been able to figure out why TJ wanted to be his friend, Maybe that’s because they weren’t supposed to be.

But still, his phone seemed to taunt him from where it sat on his nightstand, practically begging him to call TJ.

It was about three in the morning when Cyrus Goodman gave up on giving up, snatching his phone from the charging port and opening up TJ’s contact information. _Here we go_ , he thought nervously as he pressed the call button, much like he had that first night. He could feel his heart thumping painfully against his ribs; he hadn’t been this nervous about FaceTiming TJ since their first call all those weeks ago. Because much like that first night, Cyrus didn’t know if TJ would pick up or not.

* * *

Across town, TJ had given up on sleeping, even though the day had left him so emotionally exhausted that he should have fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. As it were, he was watching the blades of his ceiling fan whirl above him. Everything felt wrong. With a sigh, he sat up, grabbed his phone off the charger, and crept down the hall to the deck that let out into the backyard.

He sat down on a deck chair, closing his eyes. The beauty of his backyard was best observed cast in sunlight, during the golden hour, but it was still a comfort to listen to the tiny fountain gurgle in the dark. The stars turned overhead, blinking bright and tragic. So many constellations, and TJ knew none of their names. A thought flickered through TJ’s mind, here one moment and gone the next— _Cyrus would._ And _oh_.

Everything felt raw—his soul turned ragged at the edges, frayed over and over again as the week wore on.

He missed Cyrus. There was no pretty, sugar-coated way to put it.

The easiest way to say it was this—TJ was hopelessly smitten with Cyrus Goodman, and it hurt.

The complicated way to say it was this—TJ was hopelessly smitten with Cyrus Goodman, and he had spent the entire week avoiding him in hopes of letting those emotions go, and it _hurt_.

If this had been last week, TJ would have been talking to Cyrus right now, stifling laughter in his bedroom so that his parents wouldn’t wake up. If this had been last week, TJ would have been denying that he was tired because he didn’t want to hang up just yet. If this had been last week—but it wasn’t. It was three in the morning on a Saturday and TJ was alone.

_And it hurt_.

He needed to sleep, he knew this. Needed to hit reset on his whole life and start over. Needed to hit reset on the day and let something new play out. He needed to turn off his mind, and turn off his memories, and stop replaying the look on Cyrus's face when he shut him down in the hallway.

_I hurt him_.

What TJ wanted, though, above anything else, was to hear Cyrus's voice, but Cyrus wasn’t there.

_He hates me. He has to hate me._

His phone started to ring in his hand. _Oh_.

Cyrus's caller ID flashed over the screen. And the phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Call it a lapse in judgement. Or a burst of bravery. Or sheer stupidity. With his hands trembling, TJ hit _deny_ , and the call stopped ringing.

But then the guilt set in, and it was overwhelming and cutting and _so damn deserved_ .  TJ scrolled through his contacts, hesitating before calling Cyrus. It wasn’t a FaceTime, just a regular phone call, but at the moment, even that felt like more than he could manage. But he knew, he _knew_ that if he had to look at Cyrus while talking to him right now, he would be completely unglued—every single fiber of his threadbare heart would burn.

He’d already done enough burning this week.

“TJ?” Cyrus's voice was so small. And not in the way that it usually was, not in the _we have to be quiet or my mom will wake up_ way. It was small in the _I feel like I have to walk on eggshells around you_ way, the _everything aches like hell_ way, the _please don’t push me away again_ way. TJ caused that.

His heart jackrabbited in his chest, wild and scared. TJ took a breath, his voice freezing before he spoke. “What’s up, Cyrus?”

Even though he tried, Cyrus couldn’t stop the hurt that filled his voice. It was a knife to TJ’s chest, and he didn’t even know it. Or, maybe he did. Maybe he’d always known. “Can we talk?”

TJ pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes, rubbed until he saw the entire galaxy. Just the sound of his voice left TJ feeling shattered, a mosaic of himself. He thought _yes_ , he thought _please_ , he thought _God, I’m so sorry, I love you, I—_ What he said was, “It’s pretty late, dude. Can this wait until tomorrow?”

There was silence, and for one terrified, heartbroken, shaky moment, TJ thought Cyrus hung up. But then a rush of air sounded across the speaker, and he realized that he didn’t hang up. Cyrus was just ignoring him.

The aching of it all gnawed at TJ’s insides. “Hello?”

“I’m here,” Cyrus said, and it was weary and watery and _terrible_. “Just… TJ, I really need to see you. Like, now.”

“Dude, it’s like, three in the morning. Can’t this wait?” TJ hated himself, a little more with every word. He needed to stop talking, needed to stop being a jerk, needed—he needed Cyrus.

Cyrus said, “ _Please_ ,” and it sounded like a negotiation, sounded like a prayer, sounded like _just make it stop hurting_.

TJ blinked, slow and thoughtful. He was only wearing flannel pajama pants and a hole-filled sweatshirt and no shoes, but he said, “Okay.”

It wasn’t an apology, but it was a start. He hung up the call and ran.

* * *

It took twenty minutes for TJ to reach Cyrus's house. He’d been there several times over the past few months, both of them hanging out at each other’s houses whenever they weren’t FaceTiming or at school. Of course, he hadn’t been there in the past week or so since he’d been avoiding Cyrus, but he could still remember the layout of the other boy’s house. TJ could also see a lamp light shining from the window on the left of the house, only further confirmation that the room was Cyrus's.

TJ stood in the middle of the lawn for a few seconds, trying to gather his bearings. No matter what, he knew he couldn’t tell Cyrus the truth. It would be easier in the end for him to just break it off now, no matter how much it killed him inside. He was only here one last time to give Cyrus closure. Nothing more, nothing less.

With that last thought in mind, TJ jogged up to Cyrus's window and lightly knocked on the pane of glass. Cyrus was sitting on his bed, seemingly waiting for him, and the boy slid open the window. “You’re here,” he stated, purely in shock.

TJ blinked, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “I told you I would be,” he said. His voice sounded shakier than he expected, so he cleared his throat and said, “Are you that surprised?” It sounded steadier now, confident, which completely contradicted how TJ was really feeling inside.

“Part of me thought you wouldn’t come,” Cyrus mumbled. Now that TJ saw him again in person, he could see just how worn down he was. There were noticeable bags under his eyes and what seemed to be a permanent frown on his face.

“Well, I’m here,” TJ said, shoving his hands in his sweatshirt pocket. This was so much harder than he’d expected it to be. He shouldn’t have to stand here and push away the boy he loved away for the sake of getting over those unrequited feelings. _Damn it all_ . “Are we going to talk or am I just going to stand here?” God, he hated himself so much for doing this. _Why_ did he have to watch Cyrus's expression falter with every word? This was even worse than avoiding Cyrus; he’d much rather ignore him than to kill him with words he didn’t mean, would _never_ mean.

“The first one,” Cyrus responded, voice heavy with sadness and hurt. “Let me just…,” he trailed off, trying to pull himself out of the window.

TJ watched him for a few seconds, fighting the smile that so _desperately_ wanted to play on his lips. “Do you need help?” he asked, unintentionally sounding amused. Cyrus looked up at him, catching the glimmer of _something_ other than coldness coming from TJ.

“I can get it,” Cyrus protested, swinging a leg over the window sill. He nearly fell out of the window after that, begin as clumsy as he was.

TJ watched on nervously, hands reaching up to grab Cyrus reflexively. It was hard to ignore the pounding in his chest as he held onto Cyrus's waist. “Duck your head,” TJ hissed. The other boy followed the instructions, but not without a look of surprise marring his features. “Swing your other leg over.”

Again, Cyrus did as he said, now (albeit unsteadily) on the edge of the window.

“Okay, now jump,” TJ said. He was still holding onto Cyrus, and at this point, he wasn’t sure how he was ever going to let go.

“You want me to _what_ now?” Cyrus asked, eyes wide. TJ’s heart swelled with how adorable Cyrus was, but then he silently scolded himself. This was exactly why he’d began avoiding Cyrus, so something like this didn’t happen. So he wasn’t fawning over Cyrus the way he _so_ _obviously_ was now _._

“Jump,” TJ repeated, making his voice more flat. “Come on, you’ll be fine.” He wanted so _badly_ to reassure Cyrus, to tell him that he would catch him, but he couldn’t. The only thing that seemed to come out his mouth was the cruel words he kept throwing around, those cruel, undeserved words that made him hate himself a little more with every syllable.

Uncertainly, Cyrus wobbled off the edge and into TJ’s arms, wrapping his own around the basketball player’s neck. For a moment, TJ forgot how to breath with Cyrus’s arms around him and his hands still gripping his waist. “See, I told you you could do it,” he muttered lowly, not even _daring_ to look at Cyrus’s face as he pulled away from him. “You’re fine,” he said firmly. TJ wasn’t really sure who he was talking to at this point: Cyrus or himself.

Cyrus plored at him with those big brown eyes, those big, _sad_ , brown eyes as he loosened his grip on TJ. “I’m not fine, TJ,” he admitted, his voice full of crushing sadness that only made TJ choke up more. “ _We’re_ not fine. You’ve been avoiding me all week and I want to know why.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was a lie, of course it was a lie. TJ knew what Cyrus was going to say before he had ever even picked up his call. He _had_ been avoiding him all week. He still was, a little. Even though he had ran across town in the middle of the night to talk to him, face-to-face. He was still guarded, still had his hands clasped tight around his heart to keep it from being hurt.

Cyrus laughed, terse and high. _Oh course you don’t,_ it said. _You’re a liar,_ it said. _Why are you acting like this?_ it said. He crossed his arms over his chest, his hands curling into the fabric of his sweatshirt. TJ’s gaze flickered over the pull of it, the cotton all scrunched up tight. He looked away.

“Don’t lie to me.” Cyrus said, finally, his voice sharp and cold. TJ was sure that if he pressed his fingers over his heart, they would come away bloody. “It’s beneath you.”

And that hurt. Because even now, even after TJ’s spent the whole week ignoring him, even after TJ took their friendship and tore it to pieces, _even now_ Cyrus still saw the best in him. This had to be a fatal flaw. Cyrus was going to cut himself on TJ’s rough edges some day. It was better for him to just break it off now, but he wouldn’t. Even now, he wouldn’t. “You think too highly of me.”

Cyrus was quiet for only a moment, but it felt like years. “You know,” he said finally, “I’m starting to wonder if you’re right.” His face was blank, eyes far away. It was like someone switched every good thing inside of him off, like he was a whisper, a breath of smoke, of who he used to be.

And _oh_ . The muscle in TJ’s jaw tensed, everything tensed. He had no right to feel so hurt by that, no right at all. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Wasn’t he trying to push Cyrus away? _Wasn’t_ he? He dragged a hand over his face roughly, but he didn’t say anything. The silence grew and grew, a thick blanket that left both of them feeling unnerved.

Eventually, after a million years of standing there, Cyrus cracked. “What did I ever do to you?” he asked, voice drawn tight. He still wouldn’t look at TJ, and that made it worse, somehow. It would be easier for TJ to remain angry and cold if he had something to direct it at. But he didn’t, he never did, because Cyrus wasn’t someone he could guard himself against. He never was, never had been.

“Nothing,” TJ replied, hating himself for how cruel his voice sounded. “This is just who I am, Cyrus. You should have realized sooner.” The words sounded foreign to him, like they weren’t even coming from his mouth. His voice wasn’t his, those words weren’t his, the tears that are clouding Cyrus’ eyes weren’t his doing. TJ felt like he wasn’t even himself anymore, he was a warped mirror version, a shadow, a _jerk_. “This was a mistake. I’m going home.”

Cyrus stood there, frozen as TJ turned and started walking away. As soon as his back was turned, TJ closed his eyes, tight, angry tears slipping down his face. They were the kind you didn’t even notice building. One moment, they weren’t there, and the next thing you knew, they were falling from your chin and it felt like the end of it all. He kept walking.

And walking.

And walking.

_Don’t let me leave,_ he thought, _come after me, please don’t let this end here._

The moment he felt Cyrus’s hand on his sleeve, TJ’s heart shattered. _I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I—_ He pulled his arm away, and when he looked back at Cyrus, the ache in his chest was so overwhelming, it felt like he was never going to heal. “What?”

Cyrus was crying, actually crying, and he wouldn’t even move to wipe the tears away. That was the worst part, because TJ’s mind was shouting at him to step closer, to use the sleeve of his sweater to dry them off, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow himself that anymore. They were standing beneath a street light, at the edge of the park where they first hung out, and _honestly,_ wasn’t that just great? Their relationship finally came full circle. His heart ached some more.

“Why?” Cyrus asked, words cracking, voice breaking down at the edges. “What did I _do_?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” the word was a hiss, sharp and volatile, “Can you just stop? Stop thinking I’m so good, because I’m _not_ . I’m not better than this. I’m not good enough for you. I just—I can’t be your friend anymore, Cyrus. I don’t deserve it.” _I don’t deserve you_ hung unspoken in the air, and that was it. TJ came undone, all of the broken pieces of him falling apart, unglued.

Cyrus’s voice was baby blanket soft when he said, “But you do, can’t you see that, TJ? You spend so much time walking around, acting like some hotshot who isn’t bothered by anything. Doesn’t that get lonely?”

_Yes_ , TJ thought, _lonely like a crowded room._ “No.”

Cyrus opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Lips pressed tight, he nodded, eyes cutting away from TJ and up towards the sky. And then he laughed, a quick, cold, joyless sound. “You’re a terrible liar, TJ. You’re so much better than this. I know you are, because I know you. The _real_ you. And I care about the real you so much more than you will ever be able to understand. Don’t you get that? Teej, I refuse to stop being your friend because you don’t think you’re good enough, or whatever. You don’t _have_ to be good enough, you just have to _be_. I wish you could see that.”

And _oh_ . Cyrus fell quiet, and suddenly TJ was sure he could hear just how loud his heart was beating. The thrum of it flooded through him, and he thought, _to hell with it all_. He was done, so completely and utterly done.

He was tired of hurting Cyrus.

He was tired of lying to everyone all the time.

He was tired of lying to _himself_ all the time.

“I like you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” he spat out. TJ’s mind was running so fast, it was too late to go back now. “I like you so much, I don’t even think it’s right to just call it a crush. And it hurts, Cyrus, it hurts so damn bad because I know you’re never going to feel the same way. I mean, why would you? Why would you like _me_ when you could date any guy you wanted to? And it isn’t your fault, I get that. I mean, I guess I get that, on some level. But I can’t wake up every day and pretend to be content with just being friends with you. I can’t keep pretending that my heart doesn’t race everytime you smile at me, or when you laugh at something stupid I said. I can’t focus whenever you’re around, because I all I can think about is how much it’s going to hurt when you leave. And all of those times you would talk about Jonah and how much you liked him? How do you think that made me feel?”

TJ stopped talking, his breathing ragged. It felt like his chest was going to collapse, his heart had gone supernova, the world around him was falling away. He blinked, and then he was crying, and he was so _angry_ at himself for breaking down that it left him feeling cold. But he couldn’t hold everything in anymore, he was a match all burned out.

The air felt heavy in the wake of it, the night too quiet without TJ’s voice. Cyrus was looking everywhere but at the other boy, and the _otherness_ of it was nearly tangible. His voice was trembling when he said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

And _oh_ . TJ started laughing, but it was hollow and silent and manic. He swiped at his eyes, wiping away all of the tears collected in his lashes. “I _tried_ ,” he replied, “every single day, but I couldn’t. And then the one time I did, the _one time_ I was able to figure out how I felt long enough to form the words, you fell asleep and didn’t hear _any_ of it.”

Cyrus looked up at him, and his eyes were so soft and careful that TJ had to look away. He was falling, always falling, the ground beneath him completely gone. Every fiber of him wanted to crumble, wanted to reach out and pull Cyrus to him and never let him go.

A million years passed. Or a handful of seconds passed. Or no time at all passed before Cyrus, voice threadbare and open, said, “I thought that was a dream.”

For a second, everything paused. His breathing slowed to a stop and the tears dripping down his cheeks came to a halt. “Wait, you...you heard what I said?” he asked. TJ didn’t know how to feel: elated or upset or angry that he put Cyrus through all of this for nothing.

“I mean, I was half-asleep when I heard it, but…,” Cyrus trailed off. “I just...I never _really_ imagined that you could ever like me back. And then you ignored me at school all week, so I thought it was just a figment of my imagination. That is...until now.”

If TJ’s heart stopped before, it was _nothing_ compared to the way he felt now. Did his ears deceive him, or did Cyrus say he liked him _back_? “You like me?” TJ questioned in disbelief.

“Wasn’t it obvious, TJ?” Cyrus laughed, dabbing away the stray tears on his face. “I spent all of my time either calling you or wishing I was. Even _after_ you started ignoring me.” TJ stared at him in shock. He’d pushed Cyrus away and said some of the worst things he could’ve said all for _nothing_.

“God, I’m such an _idiot_ ,” TJ exclaimed, turning around. He couldn’t look at Cyrus; when he saw his face, he was just reminded of how much he’d hurt him, reminded of every hurt expression of his he’d caused over the past week. “I thought I was doing myself a favor by getting over my feelings for you, but I was actually screwing everything up more. _Great_ .” He rubbed his eyes, the skin there feeling raw with tears. He hated himself even more than before. _God,_ how could he be this _dense_ —

“TJ, look at me,” Cyrus said, tugging on his arm. Reluctantly, he turned around, not even allowing himself to look at Cyrus. “You’re _not_ an idiot, okay?” Even after all the horrible things TJ’d said to him, Cyrus was still trying to build him up, to make sure he knew how much he mattered. “We just had a little misunderstanding.”

“ _Little misunderstanding_ ?” TJ blurted out. “I said things I can never take back, _things I didn’t even mean,_ so you’d stop being friends with me. I _hurt_ you, Cyrus, and I hate myself for it. I’m so sorry, I wish I could take it all back and—”

Suddenly, Cyrus grabbed TJ’s face, and every nerve in his body stood on end. He was _so close_ , he could kiss him if he wanted to, and _boy,_ did he want to. “TJ, I don’t care about _any_ of that,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling the other boy’s face. “It doesn’t matter now because I like you, too, and you were only saying all of that to protect yourself from getting hurt.”

“You should care,” TJ refused, trying to ignore the way his heart jumped at _I like you, too_. “You don’t say things like that to someone you…,” he took a breath before continuing. “Someone you love.”

Cyrus’s face morphed from sadness to shock to the brightest smile TJ had ever seen on him. “You...you love me?” he asked in complete awe, dropping his hands away from the other boy’s face. TJ Kippen _loved_ him. And there was no second-guessing about it this time, no possibility that this was a dream. This was _real_.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” TJ teased, enveloping Cyrus’s hands with his own. “I love the way you try to help everyone, _especially_ when they don’t deserve it. I love your list of easy things you can’t do and how much faith you put in me to be a better person, and how you make me _want_ to be a better person. I love the sound of your voice when you call me in the middle of the night just ‘cause and your smile and your laugh and your eyes. I just...I love _everything_ about you, Cyrus. And I’m not scared to admit that, not anymore. _I love you_ , Cyrus Goodman,” TJ confessed, looking into Cyrus’s eyes. Everything he’d just said had been one of the only times he’d been honest with Cyrus this week, and he was finally glad he’d said it all.

The heart in TJ’s chest was wild, a bird trying to escape its cage. This was dangerous, the entire situation. What were they doing? Cyrus stepped closer, and TJ was acutely aware of their height difference. Carefully, like he was worried TJ would spook if he moved too fast, Cyrus pressed his hand to TJ’s cheek. The touch was feather soft, like he was barely even there. He said, “Are you done yet?” but it sounded like _kiss me_ , it sounded like _I love you_ , it sounded like _I hope you never leave._

TJ nodded, only once, a quick movement. He felt like he was floating, unmoored. “Yeah.”

Cyrus smiled then, soft, bright like the stars whirling above them. “Good.” He said, “Will you kiss me now?” And _oh_. TJ laughed, lighter than ever. He rested their foreheads together, in awe of the fact that Cyrus would even allow him to be here, standing so close he could count the dark eyelashes that cast shadows over Cyrus’ cheeks.

And he kissed him.

It was clumsy and tear-filled and broken apart by laughter, but it was so completely their’s that it didn’t even matter. The warmth that bloomed through TJ’s chest was so overwhelming, a forest fire set free. He kissed Cyrus again, because he could, and it wasn’t as shaky this time. When he finally pulled away, it ached, a little voice sitting in the back of his mind, telling him all of this would be over by the morning. But then he caught Cyrus’s eyes, and there was more love and warmth and happiness reflected in them that TJ would have been a fool to believe otherwise.

“I love you,” he said again, because the sound of it was intoxicating, and the sappy smile that spread over Cyrus’s face made his heart melt.

“TJ,” Cyrus’s voice was a whisper, warm breath a cloud in the cool air between them, “I love you, too.”

The words were so perfect, _so_ _utterly perfect_ , that TJ wasn’t sure how people ever got used to them. “Come here,” he whispered, bringing Cyrus into a hug. He rested his chin on Cyrus’s head, the hug so incredibly, unbelievably _warm_ , and warmth was something he would gladly accept after the coldness he’d been full of this past week.

But that was over now, and somehow, he’d still gotten Cyrus in the end. That was something that couldn’t be changed, no matter what happened.

And just like those words, _those three little words_ , everything was perfect.

* * *

It was a few months later when Cyrus FaceTimed his boyfriend.

It was around two AM on a Sunday when he called, the phone only ringing three times before the screen loaded. He smiled as TJ’s face appeared, a worried expression on the basketball player’s face. “Hey, Cy? You okay? What’s wrong?”

The concerned words only made Cyrus smile more. Calling each other so late like this had basically become old hat for them. The late night video calls became less and less since the start of their relationship, though, neither of them feeling as plagued by their problems as they used to be before. “Nothing,” Cyrus admitted, grinning at the adorable furrow of TJ’s brow. “I just missed you.”

Immediately, TJ’s face relaxed. “Oh. I miss you, too,” he smiled. And he did, even though they had spent most of the previous day together at the park, TJ trying his best to teach Cyrus how to free throw. For what it was worth, Cyrus _did_ try to understand it, though by the end of it all, he still could not shoot to save his life.

“Are you coming over tomorrow?” Cyrus settled back into his bed, phone held above his face so he could rest his head against the pillow. “My mom’s making your favorite for dinner.”

“Is this a ploy to get me to spend the whole weekend at your house? Over dinner, my dad said I basically live there.”

Cyrus laughed, the sound blooming with warmth even through the phone. “You got me there. Mom made up a room for you and everything.”

A beat of silence passed, in which TJ had to figure out if Cyrus was kidding or not. You could never be too sure with him. “Did she now?”

“Yep. My stepdad wasn’t too happy about it, since it was supposed to be his man cave or whatever, but what can you do?”

And then they were laughing again, because the lie was so ridiculous, Cyrus couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. TJ smiled at him, so full of love it was just as ridiculous.

“Okay,” Cyrus said. “But in all seriousness, will you come over? I really do miss you.”

“Of course. After all, I would never miss out on your mom’s homemade pizza. _Never_.”

“I knew it, you only love me for my mom’s food.”

Pulling the straightest face he could, TJ nodded. “You got me.”

Cyrus looked hurt, and for a second, TJ wondered if he couldn’t tell he was kidding. But then he was laughing at how concerned TJ looked, and the moment passed.

“Okay,” Cyrus said, “That’s all.”

“All what?” TJ laid back down, pulling his comforter up to his chin. He rested the phone on his pillow, the picture flipping from portrait to landscape. He looked so tired, eyes closed even though he was still talking, pale hair mussed up on the pillow, tangled and baby bird soft. It made Cyrus’s heart skip when he thought about just how much he loved his boyfriend. _I want to wake up to that,_ he thought, _someday_.

He said, “That’s all I had to say.”

“Oh, are you leaving, then?”

“It’s late, Teej, and you’re tired.” A conversation they’ve had a million times, worn down and faded by how often it had been mulled over. “Come over tomorrow.”

“I will,” TJ said, “but don’t leave yet. Please?”

So, Cyrus stayed. They swapped _I love you’s_ until TJ fell asleep, still on the other line. Eyes closed, breathing soft, Cyrus fell asleep with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as Bee and I did writing it! Hopefully, we'll be collabing on even more stories in the future. Let us know what you think. Thanks for reading!


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